I almost never ate like this, except with Sara. In high school, me, Liam and Sara had been in sports all year round, and had to eat and train accordingly. Liam and I would trade off, picking Sara up after soccer or track practice. When it was my turn, she got really good at begging me into sneaking her fast food with those impossibly big, brown puppy eyes, and I got really bad at saying no.
Over time, it had just turned into our thing. If there was something to celebrate or even something shitty going on, we’d hit the drugstore, grab our Gatorades and Sour Patch candy, and then get Burrito Bell, unless it was a Saturday morning, in which case, The Breakfast Bar was our go to.
This was throwing me back, only now, everything was just so much different.
I pushed her orange juice across the table, another more domestic fantasy coming to life as she sat there, flushed cheeks, wild morning hair, looking freaking adorable.
The drumbeat inside me banged on, pulsing through my veryblood like a war song. I ignored what it said, or tried to at least, while Sara sat there looking like ancient royalty, looking like she belonged on the throne of all this grandeur. She suddenly seemed to give purpose to this dusty old excuse for a home, because if she asked me to, I’d certainly be hers to command, would swear myself to worship at the foot of her altar,day and night.
“Since you already know about my exhibition, would you mind if I stayed here through the weekend, just until it’s over?” She asked, stabbing the straw through the plastic lid of her orange juice.
My heart raced as I considered several more nights of sleeping under the same roof with her, but I didn’t miss a beat. “Of course not. You’re always welcome here, you know that.” I was going to have to buck up some serious self-control and keep my goddamn hands to myself.
It would have been one thing if Sara wasn’t… Sara.
But no, she’d been sitting on my dick like a goddamn temptress, not wearing any fucking underwear. Asking what if shewantedme to do all those dirty things I’d threatened, all while she batted her lashes innocently.
Innocent my ass, she’d sealed her request by teasing her gloriously drenched pussy right over my throbbing dick. I was freaking Houdini for getting myself out of that one.
I noticed Sara fiddling with the sandwich paper rather than eating. “Why are you home anyway?”
I cleared my throat, hedging. “I had some meetings in town.” It was partially true.
She looked utterly confused. “With who?”
“Investors,” I said quickly, taking another bite.
“That doesn’t make any sense, I thought you wanted to stay in the Air Force?”
“I do.”
She narrowed her eyes, head tilting as she assessed me. “What aren’t you telling me, Kensington?”
“I may have had some extra time off.” That waskind ofa lie.
She astutely poked me again. “I wasn’t aware the Air Force just dolled out extra time off.”
“I may currently have some schedule flexibility, due to a medical leave. Thought I’d make the most of it.” I shrugged, jamming another bite in.
“Medical leave?” Her face went pale, and it suddenly occurred to me that was a terrible choice of words on my part, considering her mother’s unknown health condition before she’d passed.
“It’s nothing bad. I just dislocated my shoulder.” I quickly reassured her through my mouthful. She nodded slowly, wheels turning, and I swallowed without chewing, adding, “I’m fine, Sara, truly I’m fine.”
“Okay.” She sort of played with her sandwich, but still didn’t take a bite.
By the time I’d finished my two breakfast sandwiches, she’d barely eaten half of hers, if that.
Oh fuck.I’d just assumed that when she’d started painting again that she’d started eating too. It was dumb logic, I knew, but in that moment, I realized it was clearly still a big problem. Thankfully, she didn’t look as gaunt as she had on her birthday, but she was still much thinner than usual.
Sara noticed me looking, and she pushed the paper over to me, waiting for me to finish her food like I always did when she was full. “You’re finished?” I asked, worry filling my chest.
“Yeah, I’m not really a breakfast person anymore.” Bullshit.
“You don’t want to save it?” I offered. “You might be hungry a little bit later.”
“I doubt it.” She leaned back in her chair and stared out the window.Damn it.
In an attempt not to make a big deal about it, I dragged the half-eaten sandwich towards me—I finished the rest of it, feeling like it was ash in my mouth. I tried to convince myself I was overreacting, but deep down, I knew I wasn’t.
